Snakebite
by BetaCobra
Summary: As life went on under Cobra Kai's new management, one truth had become crystal clear. Sensei Kreese expected the same things from every one of his students: unbending respect; unshakeable loyalty; and, above all else, unquestioning obedience.
1. Neurotoxic

With a round kick landing squarely against his chest, Mitch staggered backwards and dropped to his knees on the dojo mats. He had only a second to look up before the heel of a foot connected square with his face, sending him falling on his back, defeated. His opponent stood victorious in front of him, glaring down with a sharp smirk that belied the disappointment he felt for how easy this win had come by. Just once, he wished the others would give him a _real_ challenge.

"Return."

Hawk glanced over his shoulder at his Sensei at hearing the command and did as he was told, returning to the sidelines to stand beside Tory while Mitch picked himself off the floor and did the same, getting back to attention on the other side of Kevin.

Sensei Kreese strolled down the row of students, eyeing them all like a drill sergeant scrutinized his soldiers. "You tell me you're giving me better than your best, but all I see is the most pathetic pack of pussies I ever had the misfortunate to lay eyes on. And I won't tolerate pussies in my dojo."

His putdowns could be as harsh as Sensei Lawrence's ever were, but between the two Senseis they were all used to them by now. And the tone in which he delivered them couldn't have been more different from their previous teacher's. Sensei Kreese owned his every word, his every movement with a cool countenance, like he was fully aware of the fact that he was the OG badass. And what respect his students owed him.

Once he stood in front of Hawk, Sensei Kreese looked back down the row he'd just walked by. "How long are you going to let Hawk wipe the floor with you before you step up?" he asked. Hawk swelled at that praise, his smirk returning to curl the corner of his mouth. It was nice, being at the center of positive attention for a change.

Sensei Kreese continued, giving his closing lesson for the day. He explained that while their real training under his oversight was often harsh and unforgiving, it served the important purpose of preparing them for survival. Sooner or later, they would face their enemies again on the street. And he would not train them to be merciful when their enemies showed them no mercy in return. They'd seen for themselves what the consequences of showing mercy had been.

Once more, the message was simple to understand: Strike First, Strike Hard, No Mercy. Black words on a white wall, as it should be.

As life went on under Cobra Kai's new management, one truth had become crystal clear. Sensei Kreese expected the same things from every one of his students: unbending respect; unshakeable loyalty; and, above all else, unquestioning obedience. In return, he would give them strength, confidence, and power. He would make them winners.

Once practice wrapped up, Hawk walked to where everyone crowded near the benches to grab their belongings. There, he caught Tory's eyes lingering on him. He couldn't place the expression on her face, the way her nose crinkled and her brows furrowed together hard, like she was deep in her thoughts. "What?" he asked, questioning that look of hers before taking a swig from his water bottle.

Tory shook her head, reaching down to slip on her tennis shoes. "Nothing."

"Kickass match against Red, by the way," Hawk said, putting the bottle back in his bag. Then, with a shaky laugh, he added, "Heh, I think you actually made him cry with that punch. A few inches lower, and he would've been bawlin'."

"Thanks," replied Tory, sliding the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Hawk waited a moment, hoping maybe she'd compliment him for his fight, too. But she said nothing else. A frown fleeted over Hawk's face, but he didn't make another remark on it.

Tory was their second-best fighter in the new Cobra Kai for the foreseeable future, at least until Miguel came back; whenever that was. Hawk thought she should have been taking more of a lead with that being the case, but Sensei Kreese did not expect the same things from her that he did from him. Maybe because she was a girl.

But Tory rarely spoke up in class anyways, so it wasn't like she would have contributed much in leading by example. Sure, she trained harder than most of the others, but now she always seemed to have her guard up. She didn't relax anymore, the way she'd done when Miguel and Aisha were around.

Hawk wondered why. Did she still think they all secretly blamed her for what happened to Miguel? Nobody in Cobra Kai held it against her for starting the school fight, she'd acted like a true Cobra should have in that situation. They knew who the real enemies were. Robby had been the one to kick Miguel over the rail, even after he'd been shown mercy. And Sensei Lawrence had been the one to teach Miguel to show mercy in the first place.

Reaching between the two of them to grab his bag from the bench, Mitch rubbed his sore jaw with his other hand. "Geez, would it kill you to take it down a notch in these matches?" he grumbled to Hawk.

"You heard Sensei," replied Hawk with a mean-spirited snort. "We don't train to be merciful here, Ass-face."

"I know," mumbled Mitch, "but shit, man, I'm pretty sure you almost chipped my tooth that time."

"So what?" Hawk retorted, his face pinching in irritation as he recalled the time Aisha had chipped _his_ tooth the day Sensei Lawrence ordered her to un-flinch the class. It left him with no pity to extend to Mitch. The other boy needed to get with the program and toughen up already. "Deal with it."

Mitch gave him a look, squinting his eyes and shaking his head. Then he turned and walked away, muttering something that sounded like "fucking asshole" under his breath while he made his way to the door. Hawk made a mental note to make him pay for that remark next practice.

But for the time being, Hawk turned to Tory again and asked her, "Anyway, you wanna do some one-on-one? I could show you a couple new moves I've been working on. Y'know, for when we get our rematch against Miyagi-Do."

Tory's features hardened. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she twisted her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her voice sounded tense when she spoke up and told him in no uncertain terms, "Look, just so we're on the same page, I'm not interested. Miguel is still…." She trailed off, eyes drifting down to glance at the floor. She was fighting hard not to look vulnerable, Hawk could tell.

Blinking in silent confusion for a minute, it then sunk in for Hawk what Tory was saying. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just that you're the only one in this class of shitbreaths who can actually keep up," he explained, feeling his ears burn. Did she think he'd been trying to put moves on her all this time?

Not that he'd never taken notice of her since she joined the dojo. He had eyes, after all. If he hadn't been with Moon at the time, and if Miguel didn't strike first, Hawk might have made a move. But even though things were up in the air, and had gotten muddled since Miguel kissed Sam, Hawk assumed Tory was still Miguel's girlfriend. According to the Bro Code, that made her off-limits.

Besides, it wasn't like he was so desperate as to hit on his best friend's girl, especially when Miguel was in the hospital. He could get any chick in school he wanted. For real. Once Cobra Kai's reputation repaired in the Valley, he'd be well on his way to getting a full cycle of girlfriends.

Tory sighed and uncrossed her arms from their defensive stance, reaching one hand up to brush some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Sorry," she apologized, softer this time. "But I really can't stay. I'm supposed to meet up with one of my girlfriends soon. Maybe some other time."

Hawk rolled his shoulders, telling himself not to let her rebuff get under his skin. "Yeah. Maybe later. No prob."

He didn't know why he was trying to get her to warm up again. Maybe it was because she was the closest company he had to Miguel. She was the only other one in the dojo who understood. Perhaps he hoped that they might be able to bond over that, because there was no way he could open up to the other guys about what he was feeling. He had to be tougher than that, for the sake of Cobra Kai. But he still wanted companionship and assumed Tory might as well. Girls were always franker with their feelings, after all.

Perhaps he'd been wrong. Maybe she was the type who dealt with her problems on her own. Or maybe that's what her girlfriends were for. Maybe she would've been more receptive if he'd been Aisha instead.

Without another word, Tory walked passed him. Hawk watched until the door closed behind her, jingling the bells as she exited the building. The last stragglers soon followed behind her, and Hawk was left behind, alone in the dojo. Good. That was how he liked it lately.

Turning on his feet, he trudged to the back room, making his way over to the practice dummy. With each step, he could feel himself winding up, in the way the muscles between his shoulder-blades tensed, he could feel the anger boiling the blood in his veins by the time he reached his target. He didn't hesitate for a second to start whaling into it.

With grunts of aggression driving out of him with each hit, he pounded his fists over and over into the dummy's face. With each strike, he imagined he was assailing one of his enemies instead. He thought about how he never got an opportunity to get his revenge on Kyler, and how good it would feel to give him a bloody lip. Next, he was pummeling Demetri's nerdy mug, repaying him for all the humiliation he'd put him through with his roast. Then Robby got his turn, Hawk daydreaming about how pleased he would be to leave him with a matching set of black eyes if given the chance.

Throwing one particularly incensed blow, he even visualized himself taking a swing at Sensei Lawrence.

"If you don't watch your form, you'll bust your knuckles before you ever break your opponent's nose."

Hawk ceased his angry strikes, his shoulders rising and falling with his heavy breaths as he looked across the room to see Sensei Kreese leaning against the doorframe. His instructor stared at him hard, his arms crossed and his eyes keen, studying him as he sometimes did whenever Hawk stayed behind after class to practice by himself. He was glad Sensei Kreese didn't object to him doing it, and he was thankful for the old man's observations.

"Yes, Sensei." Hawk glanced down at his knuckles. They were already red. He wouldn't be surprised if they bruised. He'd gotten too sloppy in his relentless aggression. That night he'd have to remember to give them an ice bath.

Eyeing the practice dummy Hawk had been taking out his frustrations on, Sensei Kreese tilted his head and inquired, "Something on your mind?"

Sensei Lawrence never would have asked him that. He wouldn't have cared. Sensei Kreese could be a hard man, but he at least didn't turn Hawk away. He was always there with advice. He'd protected Hawk after he vandalized Miyagi-Do. He'd been there for him after the school fight, with a sympathetic ear and a promise that he would never lose again. Hawk knew he could trust Sensei Kreese.

"Sensei, when are we going to make our move against Miyagi-Do?" asked Hawk, his skin warming at the thought of getting his coveted rematch against the rival dojo. He'd spent so long fantasizing about it since Cobra Kai's devastating loss, and he was eager to strike. "We know where to find them. We could catch them off-guard so easy."

Hawk didn't understand what Sensei Kreese's strategy was. Officially, Mr. LaRusso had shut down the Miyagi-Do karate dojo. He tucked his tail between his legs and ran off like a coward. But his students remained at school; only Robby Keene was out of the picture, rotting as he was at that moment in juvie, where he belonged. With their Sensei having abandoned them, the others at Miyagi-Do were ripe to be crushed.

But Sensei Kreese held them back for now. Hawk hated it. He couldn't comprehend what his Sensei was waiting for, when they were so close to finishing the fight for good. It wasn't right that they at Cobra Kai had to go to school almost every day and be around their enemies without having the opportunity to make them pay for what they'd done to them.

Narrowing his eyes, Sensei Kreese responded, "What did I tell all of you before? No one touches the little prima donnas until I say so."

"But I'm ready _now_, Sensei!" The words flew out of Hawk's mouth before he could remember that no one argued with Sensei Kreese.

"Are you?" asked Sensei Kreese smoothly, a simple smile spreading over his face, and he got a gleam in his eye. He sounded amused, which confused Hawk, now that he had a second to reflect on his mistake.

He expected a sharp reprimand for forgetting his place, or an order to drop to the ground and give him fifty pushups on his knuckles, as would be appropriate. But his Sensei instead uncrossed his arms and walked closer, until he stood in front of him imposingly. Hawk bowed his head and tried to apologize. "Sensei, I'm sor-"

"Let's see how ready you are," said Sensei Kreese, cutting him off. "Hit me." For a second, Hawk remembered what happened the last time someone had given that demand, when Sensei Lawrence ordered Demetri to attack him, just before tossing his ass to the mats. It made Hawk hesitate. And his hesitation made Sensei Kreese chuckle under his breath. "What? Worried about hurting an old man?"

Was there a right answer to that question? "Uh, I…."

"Did I stutter?" demanded Sensei Kreese, his words carrying an edge to them as any amusement he'd carried before melted off like ice. "I told you, hit me."

A look of determination crossed Hawk's features, hardening his eyes. This was a test, he realized. Sensei Kreese wasn't messing around, was he? He needed to show his teacher what he was made of now, to show that his lessons had not been in vain. "Yes, Sensei," he said, getting into a fighting position.

"Good. Don't hold back," instructed Sensei Kreese, who didn't so much as put up a defensive stance, leaving himself wide open to attack. "No mercy."

Like Hawk needed reminding of that maxim. If any of them in the dojo understood the value of that truth, it was him.

He struck at his teacher with a straight punch, which Sensei Kreese pushed out of the way with ease. Hawk's reflexes moved him nimbly away before any expected counter-attack could hit, but Sensei Kreese remained where he stood, like some sort of impenetrable wall. Did his Sensei really expect him to go all-out against him? Because Hawk's mind raced with a dozen ways he might knock the old man down, but it left a bad taste in his mouth thinking about it.

He pushed ahead regardless, launching a round kick towards Sensei Kreese's face. But his instructor took two big steps backward, making him miss. Hawk recovered and circled around to kick him again, yet the result was the same, this time Sensei Kreese giving him a look of disappointment. It made Hawk's face burn in shame.

Hawk struck his foot out again, only for Sensei Kreese to make a hard turn to dodge the hit. Backing up to put some distance between them, Hawk scrambled his mind to think fast about what he should do. If he could just land a hit, he was sure it wouldn't take much to bring his Sensei down; he was nearing eighty, after all, his stamina couldn't be that high. But first he would have to hit him.

Launching another punch, which Sensei Kreese smacked away again, Hawk turned around and tried elbowing his chin, but Sensei Kreese took another step back, flashing white teeth behind his smile as he did so, tauntingly. Hawk powered forward, flipping around to deliver his most forceful punch yet, aiming at his Sensei's chest to knock the wind out of him.

Sensei Kreese maneuvered to the side, avoiding the attack. One of his hands then shot out to grab Hawk's wrist, while the other gripped his opposite shoulder. With a harsh jerk, he twisted the boy around to wrench his arm behind his back. "You think you're ready just because you're at the top of the class?" he asked Hawk, twisting his arm tighter. "Well now your enemy has you. What are you going to do about it?"

Hawk nearly cried out at the pressure of his arm being pulled behind his back, but he clenched his jaw tight to stop it from coming out. He reminded himself that he couldn't panic. He stomped his heel down on Sensei Kreese's foot, but to no avail, as he only heard his Sensei chuckle under his breath again at such a feeble effort.

He attempted next to twist himself out of his hold, but Sensei Kreese only gripped his shoulder tighter and pulled his arm up farther, and this time Hawk did make a noise. His Sensei wouldn't pop his arm from his shoulder-blade, would he? "What are you waiting for?" demanded Sensei Kreese. "Remember, nobody wins by doing nothing. Do you want to end up like Diaz?"

All Hawk could think to do was instinctively reach over his shoulder with his free hand and rake it behind him blindly at Sensei Kreese's face, aiming for his eyes. "Trying to gouge out my eyes?" inquired Sensei Kreese, amusement returning to the inflection of his voice. "Not bad, but not good enough either. If this were a real fight, your enemy could already have pulled your arm out of your socket by now. Take your enemy down with you!"

The idea came to Hawk then, hearing those words. He moved his foot between Sensei Kreese's legs and locked it behind his left calf. He knew what he would have to do, and he dreaded the consequences. But Sensei Kreese was right. If he could take his enemy down with him, then to hell with dislocating his shoulder-blade. So, he clenched his jaw as tight as he could and reached his free hand back to grab a handful of Sensei Kreese's gi. Then he pulled his weight forward, trying his hardest to knock his Sensei off his footing by pushing against his opponent's calf with his ankle.

He almost succeeded. Sensei Kreese leg was swept out from under him, but he caught himself at the last moment before he tripped and brought them both down. "That's more like it!" he praised, finally releasing Hawk's arm.

Hawk winced and rolled his sore shoulder back. It felt like the muscles there would be screaming at him if they could. He guessed he would be icing that area tonight, too.

Sensei Kreese crossed his arms again and stared at him, raising one eyebrow and noting, "You say you're ready, but your problem is that you doubt your abilities. You could have ended that fight much sooner if you didn't doubt yourself. What's holding you back?"

Hawk looked hard at his Sensei, pondering over his question. What was holding him back? He wasn't aware he had been holding himself back at all. Hadn't he always given every fight his all? Strike hard, as the motto went. But Sensei Kreese was an observant man. He saw something Hawk could not. "I don't know, Sensei," he answered.

The response amused Sensei Kreese again, judging by his faint, tight-lipped smile. "Did Sensei Lawrence ever talk about your potential with you?"

Shrugging, Hawk shook his head and admitted, "Not really." Sensei Lawrence always pointed out when he wasn't getting a move right, or when he wasn't doing things his preferred way, but they'd never had a heart-to-heart chat about his own strengths.

"Not everyone has what it takes to fight like you did, kid," remarked Sensei Kreese. "Most of them are still too chickenshit to take a big hit, too scared they'll get hurt. Not you, though. You _want_ to give it your all, don't you? You're willing to see the fight to the very end, even if it means going down with your enemy. And so long as the enemy goes down with you, you'll never lose."

Hawk perked at the way Sensei Kreese said that, and a small smile lit up his face, making him forget the soreness in his shoulder entirely.


	2. Cytotoxic

The sudden sound of jingling door bells shook Hawk out of his wandering thoughts from where he sat on the curb outside Cobra Kai. He capped the bottle of Powerade in his hands, swallowing the lingering taste of berry blast from the drink he'd taken from it.

Tory came out of the dojo, eyes on her phone. She'd probably lingered behind after the others left to talk with Sensei Kreese again. Maybe she had to miss another practice. With her lately, who knew?

Hawk glanced up at her. "You missed the bus," he said; it had passed down the road not three minutes prior.

The girl standing beside him shrugged. "Not like I'm in a huge hurry," she replied, a guarded edge to her tone.

"Still no luck with the job hunting, huh?" asked Hawk.

Her mouth pressed down in a tight line. "Kinda hard to find anything local these days when you're Internet Famous." Hawk hadn't meant to broach a sore subject. It had been stupid that the roller rink fired Tory for her role in starting the school fight. It felt like everyone in the world was turning against them.

Enemies, all of them.

Hawk changed the subject. "What about things tomorrow? Are you going to see—"

"No," Tory snipped, her voice sharp and her eyes sharper still. Seeing the way Hawk glared at her, as if demanding an explanation why, she clarified, "It's not that I don't…. Look, I will. But later. Okay?"

His glare didn't lighten. Hawk frowned. Where was her loyalty?

But Tory didn't flinch from his stare, leveling one of her own down at him, a look that said something like, where had been Miguel's loyalty to _her_? It was a look daring him to say anything more about it. And if Tory had been one of the guys, Hawk might have. But since she wasn't, he just muttered, "Yeah, whatever."

Tory let her unyielding gaze linger before finally looking back down at her phone. After a minute of uncomfortable silence between them, she eyed him again and requested, "Let me know how he is though? You know…."

He wanted to tell her to find out for herself. Instead, he nodded. "Yeah."

"Thanks." With that, she walked off.

He watched Tory walk to the end of the parking lot and stroll down the sidewalk until she was out of sight. Hawk then let himself shake his head. "Chicks," he muttered with a soft scoff, taking a chug from his drink. So emotional.

Bottling his Powerade again, Hawk simply sat there for a while, going in and out of his thoughts while he stared at the passing traffic across the parking lot, occasionally rolling the tension from his shoulders. He thought about going inside and taking it out on the punching bag, but found he didn't have the function to get up at the moment.

He felt drained, mentally and physically, but he was in no hurry to leave. Where would he go, after all? Home? Go home to what? His nagging parents, with their constant worrying and persistent refusal to leave him alone? No, home sounded awful right then.

No point in calling the crew up, either. He wasn't in the mood to be around them. He'd been exceptionally short-tempered with the other guys that day already.

It hadn't taken much to set him off. All Mitch did was crack a joke with Mikey, and Hawk turned and snapped at the both of them, telling them to shut their faces. How could they laugh? Hadn't they listened to the lessons lately? Didn't they know they were at war? Or had they become complacent in the lull between fights?

Hawk vowed to himself he'd never get complacent. He knew what the consequences of that were. Thinking back on that, it made him angry at himself over how he'd acted after the All-Valley Tournament, how he'd thought he could slack off simply because there was a whole year until the next one. If only he'd understood then. If only he'd listened and worked harder. Maybe things would've been different.

He would never be that careless again.

The door jingled once more as it opened and closed. Sensei Kreese stepped outside, pulling a cigar and lighter out of his jacket pockets. "What, loitering around after practice? No schoolwork you need to get home to finish?" he inquired, grinning around the cigar between his teeth.

"Sorry, Sensei," said Hawk, shuffling his legs to stand to his feet, but Sensei Kreese made a gesture to show he could stay where he was sitting.

"It's alright, you know the dojo's always open for you kids." The old man lit his cigar and took a few long drags from it to get it burning. "I want you to think of it as your home away from home."

Hawk nodded once, and he chugged the rest of his drink while Sensei Kreese continued smoking. Home away from home. Actually, Cobra Kai felt more like home to him lately than his real one. This was the only place he could be himself. It was the only place he was safe. And Sensei Kreese didn't treat him like a little kid like his dad and mom always did.

"Sometimes it's necessary to take a few minutes to clear your head," remarked Sensei Kreese, breaking the silence, eyeing him while he blew grey smoke into the air between his words. "Keeps you sharp. That way, you don't allow whatever it is going on in there to distract you in a fight, where you can't afford to be overthinking things."

Hawk tensed and blinked up at him, like he'd been caught.

Sensei Kreese took another long drag from his cigar. "Dieter might not have noticed you slip up, but I did," he said, his tone lowering. "You were sloppy at practice. If he'd been paying closer attention, he would've taken advantage of your weakness and won the fight. Whatever it is that's going on, you need to leave it off the mats. You set the example. If you slack off, the others will slack off, too."

"Yes, Sensei." Hawk's eyes flitted down, ashamed. He knew there was no excuse for being an airhead during practice. There was never an opportune time to screw up, because any moment of weakness was something his enemies could exploit. So he wasn't surprised to hear his Sensei had noticed. The King Cobra had a sixth sense for it.

But it made Hawk wonder why he hadn't chewed him out for it in class. Not that he was complaining. Maybe this meant Sensei Kreese didn't relish embarrassing him in front of everyone the way Sensei Lawrence had. Maybe he'd even picked up on the reason why Hawk had been distant and on edge during practice?

Lingering on that thought, Hawk let it out. "Miguel's getting out of the hospital tomorrow."

Raising an eyebrow, Sensei Kreese looked thoughtful. "Ah, I see. No wonder you were distracted."

Hawk felt lighter now talking about it, so he kept going. "I mean, he's still gotta do all this physical therapy and stuff, but they're finally letting him go home. And I know Miguel, he's been going stir crazy, he's gonna be back up and fighting in no time."

"That must be exciting news to hear." Sensei Kreese blew more smoke, his stiff grin returning.

Hawk smiled back. He was beyond excited. It felt like Miguel had been stuck in the hospital forever. He knew his friend was miserable there, and probably couldn't wait to get back to kicking ass. Back to being around his friends. "He really misses Cobra Kai," Hawk explained. "He's asked about things here. I told him we can't wait for him to come back."

The upturned corners of Sensei Kreese's mouth hardened. "In time, sure."

Tapping his fingers against his empty Powerade bottle, Hawk felt his previous enthusiasm sink a little. In time, yeah. It was still a ways off. He knew that. And it flickered a jolt of anger through his veins. Miguel still had a long road of recovery ahead of him. It felt like venom making its way through Hawk's blood just thinking about it. "He asked about Sensei Lawrence, too."

"I'm sure he did," said the King Cobra, reaching down to the asphalt to put out the lit end of his cigar. Tucking the rest of the tobacco stick back in its case and returning it to his jacket pocket, he leaned against the post and crossed his arms. "It must be hard on him. I can tell you, it's the worst feeling a Sensei can have, letting down his student, getting him hurt due to his careless instructions. I can only imagine how much more betrayed the student must feel."

Hawk's grip around the plastic bottle tightened. "He's upset that Sensei Lawrence isn't around, that he's not in charge anymore." Miguel hadn't understood. He made excuses for Sensei Lawrence, even while he lied there in that hospital bed. How could his friend do that after what happened? "I don't get it. He almost died because of Sensei Lawrence. I thought he'd be glad he's gone."

Sensei Kreese knitted his brows together. "His loyalty is commendable, if misplaced. Sometimes it's hard for a soldier to accept he's been let down by the people he's served."

"I don't know what to tell him," confessed Hawk. Hearing Miguel try to defend Sensei Lawrence had riled him up. He didn't want to fight with him over it, but how could Miguel not see how wrong he was? "I know things will be fine when he comes back and sees for himself how much better things have been around here. Maybe then _you_ can talk to him, Sensei?"

The old man glared at Hawk. There was a look in his eyes, and he gestured to the door with his chin. "Let's go inside."

Standing up, stretching the soreness from his knees, Hawk tossed his bottle in the trash and followed Sensei Kreese into the dojo. He briefly wondered if he'd said something wrong, or if Sensei Kreese was going to make him do pushups or mat-scrubbing for being distracted in class earlier.

"Wait here a moment," instructed Sensei Kreese before walking into his office, leaving Hawk standing in front of the mirrors.

Hawk sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets, rubbing the material between his thumbs and forefingers while he waited. He glanced at his reflection. His eyes saw the boy with the red mohawk, the one who seemed to wear an almost permanent scowl those days. He saw someone weary, weak. And his scowl only deepened.

He kept thinking about the day when things would reach a new normal. When the war would be over. When Cobra Kai would get its revenge against Miyagi-Do. When they would be back on top. When Miguel would be back at the dojo. When the two of them could have their rematch. When Hawk would finally be a winner. When he wouldn't have to feel so tired and angry all the time.

Sometimes it felt like that day would never come. But it was the only thing Hawk had to look forward to.

When Sensei Kreese came out of his office, he was holding an opened Coors bottle in each hand. Hawk's eyes widened in surprise as he held one out to him. When he hesitated for a second to accept it, Sensei Kreese chuckled. "Sports drinks are fine and all, but if a man's old enough to be fighting a war, he's old enough to have a man's drink."

Hawk's previous scowl evaporated. "Thanks, Sensei." He beamed, reaching out to take the proffered bottle. Hardly the first time he'd drank alcohol, but this was different than grabbing a case next door while flashing Nestor his fake ID. He was having a drink with his Sensei, man-to-man. That was so cool.

He took a chug, swelling at how good it felt to be treated with respect.

Sensei Kreese swallowed his own swig, and a hard look came over his ragged face. "One of the hardest lessons for any man to learn is that people they trust will let them down. Set them up to fail, even. When Uncle Sam sent us to 'Nam, we believed they sent us there to win."

Hawk perked at the mention of Sensei Kreese's time in the army. "Wasn't that what they wanted? To win?" he asked, taking another sip of his drink. His history classes didn't spend much time talking about the Vietnam War. He only knew vague things about it.

"Oh, I'm sure that's what they thought in their minds. Maybe they even convinced themselves," said Sensei Kreese, narrowing his eyes as a distant look came over them. "They were going to have us bring democracy in and chase those commies out. But you can't win a war like that unless you're prepared to do whatever it takes to secure absolute victory. Those bureaucrats and draft dodgers at home didn't understand. When you're up against an enemy who will send a kid into your camp with bombs tucked in his shoes to blow everyone to pieces, how do they expect you and your men to fight 'honorably'?"

That bitter drink of beer went down hard for Hawk. It felt like it lodged in his throat. "I guess they can't." He could only imagine the things Sensei Kreese had seen. Sending kids to fight your war. That was some sick shit.

"Well, they did." Sensei Kreese paused, taking another swig. And when he spoke again, the timbre of his voice had cooled. "You see, kid, when politicians play games of war, they want it to be all neat and tidy. Messy wars don't look good to your campaign donors. Gets the locals upset. So they had no problem sending out their soldiers with a handicap, telling them to hold back, no scorching the earth. Put on a big smile for the cameras. Show a little mercy. And when more and more of their boys came home with missing legs, faces half blown off, or asleep in caskets, well…."

He trailed off for a minute, looking like he was somewhere else. Hawk stared at the drink in his own hand, suddenly too queasy to finish it. But he forced himself to, to show Sensei Kreese his confidence in him wasn't misplaced, that he appreciated this moment between them. After all, he didn't want to look like a pussy in front of his Sensei.

Breaking back to the present, Sensei Kreese's grim grin spread over his mouth while he watched Hawk finish the rest of his beer. "Listen to me, prattling on like an old man."

"No, it's okay," said Hawk. He was eager to hear more. "It sucks that they screwed you guys over like that."

The King Cobra's smirk widened and he rolled one shoulder back. "Like I said, it's a lesson every man has to learn eventually. That's why I understand why Diaz isn't ready to admit Sensei Lawrence let him down. Not that Sensei Lawrence did it intentionally, of course. Just like I'm sure those bureaucrats didn't mean to send so many soldiers to get maimed. But intent doesn't really make a difference, does it? Either way, the results are the same."

Hawk stewed on that while Sensei Kreese chugged his drink. The familiar scowl darkened his face again as he made the connection between Sensei Kreese's story and how Sensei Lawrence had fucked up things at Cobra Kai.

What Sensei Kreese said was right. What difference did it make the reason for Sensei Lawrence's abrupt changes, why he tried making a softer and weaker Cobra Kai, just to make himself feel better? In the end, it still ended with all of them losing, and Miguel in a hospital bed.

And on that thought, Hawk found himself wishing, for the hundredth time since the school fight, that Miguel had not listened to Sensei Lawrence's lesson, that he'd went through with it and broken Robby's arm instead. If only he could go back in time and warn him. Everything would've been different.

"Diaz is confused right now," Sensei Kreese continued, studying Hawk's face while his lesson sunk in. "He's been through a lot, and it's going to take a while for him to accept what's happened. Try and be patient with him. What he needs most right now is guidance from a friend while he recovers. One who can put him on the right path." He reached out with his free hand and wrapped it over one of Hawk's shoulders, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Hawk gave a firm nod. "Yes, Sensei."

It wasn't Miguel's fault he couldn't disavow Sensei Lawrence. He'd put so much trust in him. They all had, but Miguel had always had something more. That must've made the punch of betrayal all the more hard-hitting. Combined with all the physical pain from his fall, it was probably too much for his friend to handle. No wonder he was in denial.

Hawk didn't like imagining Miguel being unable to handle anything life threw at him. He didn't like to imagine Miguel being at all vulnerable. He could deal with Miguel being soft for Sam, but not this. He couldn't stand the thought of him defending Sensei Lawrence while he could barely stand on his own two legs. Not Miguel, not the champ, not his friend.

But everyone had their limit.

That was okay though. Hawk was there to help him understand, to help him get through this. They were Cobra Kai for life.

Sensei Kreese reached down and took his empty beer bottle from his hand. "It's about time you should be heading home," he remarked.

Home. His Sensei was right, but the word sunk in Hawk's gut. It reminded him he always had to go back there eventually. There, he was still a kid in his parents' eyes. There, he was confused and dependent. But here, his home away from home, everything made sense. Here, he was strong and untouchable.

"See you tomorrow, kid." As he turned to head back to his office, Sensei Kreese called out, "Be sure to keep me up to date on things with Diaz."

"I will, Sensei," promised Hawk.

At least somebody cared.


	3. Hemotoxic

He didn't know why he retreated to Cobra Kai. It seemed like the only logical place to go. Like a magnet, it had a way of pulling him there whenever he needed somewhere secure to withdraw. It was what drew him there after his fight at the mall, after the school brawl, and it was what lured him there now.

He could hear his phone going off, text after text. No doubt the other guys were letting each other know they were okay, and were wondering what they should do next. Hawk didn't have an answer for them, and it made him want to chuck his cell across the parking lot.

Miguel would've had an answer. Miguel wouldn't be in this situation at all.

_No, that's not really true_, a little voice in his head reminded him. Miguel never would have picked that fight in the first place.

The lights were on inside the dojo, so bright in the darkness of the strip mall, and like a moth to the flame Hawk stepped towards it and walked inside. The sound of the bells signaled his arrival like an alarm, and Hawk counted to twenty-three before Sensei Kreese came out of his office and stood across from him on the mats.

Hawk tried to meet his gaze, but he couldn't hold it for long. So he stood there dumbly, arms hanging at his sides while his hands curled into fists so tight they threatened to start shaking.

Sensei Kreese didn't even have to ask him what happened. Hawk knew he could sense it. And even if he couldn't, the bruise on his face would give it away. But judging from the way the old man stood there, like an unbreakable tower, the way he crossed his arms over his chest, the way his grizzled face hardened like stone with that knowing glare, he was waiting for him to say it out loud.

So Hawk had no choice but to admit, "I lost."

It didn't seem necessary to go into the specifics, because they didn't matter. Sensei Kreese wouldn't care about the details of the fight, how Miyagi-Do had gotten the upper hand. The outcome was the only thing that mattered. Hawk could justify it in his head however he wanted, but it still wouldn't change the cold, hard fact: he'd lost.

He forced himself to meet Sensei Kreese's glare again, this time with a hopeful glance. He wondered, perhaps, if his Sensei might have some words of encouragement, as he had that night after his loss at the mall. That was why he came here, wasn't it? To hear it. Sensei would correct him, tell him he _didn't_ lose. Even now, Hawk could hear those words in his head: _The fight is only over when you say it is_.

His mind swarmed with a dozen desperate thoughts that second, scrambling to think of a way to make up for this. Trash Miyagi-Do again. Vandalize LaRusso Auto. Hell, go and wreck Mr. LaRusso's home. Anything to bring Cobra Kai's enemy to its knees. Anything to make them pay, _anything_ to win this war.

The King Cobra slowly closed the gap between them, and with each step Hawk felt less and less confident that would be what his Sensei would suggest. And when Sensei Kreese finally stood in front of him, narrowing his harsh eyes, instead of providing words of support, what he said was, "When you lose, you let all of Cobra Kai down. You let _me_ down."

At those words, Hawk's sense of failure hit him with the double the force, and it punched his gut far worse than any hit the students of Miyagi-Do had delivered. He lowered his eyes, unable to think of anything else to say except, "I'm sorry, Sensei."

He didn't want to admit Sensei Kreese's reaction confused him, even when the furrow of his eyebrows gave it away. Why was this situation that much different than before?

Because things _were_ different. For how many weeks had Sensei Kreese worked with him? How many times had he helped him hone his skills, correct his form, shape him into a better fighter? Worse, all of that confidence, all of that attention, all of those moments Sensei had spent with him in private, giving him extra support. Wasted.

How _couldn't_ Sensei Kreese be disappointed in him?

The low timbre of Sensei Kreese's voice didn't rise the slightest as he continued. "Sensei Lawrence might not have cared if you were a loser, but in my dojo, you're going to learn to win. Even if it's the hard way."

The pit in Hawk's stomach sank even deeper, making him queasy. The petulant kid in him wanted to come up with some defense on his own behalf. He could remind Sensei of his previous victory, how he'd helped rebuild Cobra Kai's reputation from where it had resided at rock bottom. And how it had been because of Sensei Kreese he'd been able to do that.

But shame kept his head lowered, kept his tongue from moving. What did that previous victory mean now? He'd lost. He was a loser. And there were no losers in this dojo.

"Take off your shoes."

Hawk kicked off his sneakers without protest, and then followed Sensei Kreese over the middle of the mats. Muscle memory had him taking formation, standing at attention with his hands behind his back. Hawk still couldn't meet his glare; but he could _feel _it. And even if he couldn't face his disappointment like a man, he would show his Sensei he could withstand his punishment like one.

Hooking his thumbs through his black belt, Sensei Kreese knitted his thick brows to the bridge of his nose. He simply stood there for a few long, silent minutes, looking at him. Whatever he was thinking, Hawk couldn't venture to guess. But he couldn't stand the quiet. He'd rather have Sensei Kreese yell at him than just stare like that.

So he was almost relieved when the old man spoke and ordered him in a still tone, "Fifty pushups. On your knuckles. Now."

Hawk dropped down and started without hesitating, eager to appease his Sensei and make up for his mistake. He counted them in his head, knowing Sensei Kreese was tallying them too, one right after the other between deep breaths. They were easy enough. He'd done this plenty of times by now.

Once he completed them, he stood back on his feet and looked to his Sensei for his next instruction.

"Fifty jumping-jacks."

Hawk paused only for a second, but then nodded and got started on those. He was beginning to understand now. Well, this was appropriate enough punishment, and certainly wasn't as bad as he'd been secretly dreading. Better this than mat-scrubbing duty or, God forbid, cleaning the toilet.

So he finished his set. By the time he got to fifty, he'd worked up a sweat, which he wiped off his face with the back of his arm before resuming attention like a dutiful soldier.

Sensei Kreese only gave him a couple seconds to catch his breath before next saying, "Fifty burpees."

His student began this combo of pushup and jumping-jack as he was commanded. Hawk knew then this was to be like that day when Sensei Lawrence had the whole dojo doing workouts as punishment for the vandalization of Miyagi-Do. Well, at least this time he wasn't getting his friends penalized. At least he didn't have to feel any guilt on their behalf.

_Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty…._

Hawk rolled the soreness from his shoulders as he finished. He wished this could've waited until tomorrow, after a night of resting from his fight. But he barely had a moment to wipe more sweat from his eyes before Sensei Kreese repeated, "Fifty jumping-jacks."

"Yes, Sensei." Nodding again, Hawk continued. _One, two, three…._

Why couldn't he have kept winning, Hawk wondered? Hadn't that taste of victory felt good?

As his heart-rate increased, and his breathing fought to catch up, he could only tear at this brain to figure out why it was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come out on top. Was he really just a loser to his core?

_Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty…._

Sensei Kreese didn't miss a beat with his next order. "Fifty pushups."

Hawk's stomach churned, but he dropped to the floor and did what he was told. _Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…._

His arms started shaking at the elbow as he pushed his body up and off the ground over and over, but Hawk ignored that and kept going. He would do this. He was tough enough to see through this punishment, and he was determined to prove that to Sensei Kreese.

"Fifty burpees," commanded the King Cobra as soon as he was done, crossing his arms over his chest again, staring down at him like a drill sergeant might.

_Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…_

Sweat poured down his face, and Hawk briefly worried his hair might not hold its shape if he continued on like this. But that didn't really matter right then, did it? The only important thing was proving to Sensei Kreese that he could redeem himself. He could go all night if he had to.

He repeated that assertion to himself as he finished the next round of fifty pushups, but his parched throat suggested maybe he was too cocky with that assessment. He was getting thirsty. And his arms were hurting. He struggled to get through the last three, but pushed himself through. Soon enough it would be over.

Sensei Kreese remained as stoic as ever as he said, "Fifty burpees."

Hawk picked himself up to his feet, slower this time as his abdomen clenched again, but he got started. He jumped up before dropping back down to the ground to do the pushup, before leaping back to his feet again to repeat the motion. It was mechanical by this point.

_Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four…_

He was getting light-headed. Blood was pounding in his ears, making it harder to keep count. But he tried his hardest to keep concentrating on that. He knew what would happen if he came up short.

He licked the sweat dripping from his upper lip, desperate for some moisture in his dry mouth, but the saltiness of it only made his thirst worse. By the time he reached fifty, he was coughing.

It didn't occur to him he could stop. He could leave. He could walk out, and all of this would end. It never once crossed his mind.

"Fifty burpees again," Sensei Kreese repeated.

Gulping in a few deep breaths, Hawk was about to voice his request for a quick water break. Just for a minute. Just a sip. Then he could keep going, no problem. "But Sensei…."

Sensei Kreese's features tightened, but there was a hard smirk on the corner of his mouth as he said, "Make it sixty."

_One, two, three…._

Hawk's vision was getting cloudy, and he lost himself in his thoughts as he kept going. How many had he done now? Thirty-two or thirty-three? Why was he seeing white spots?

He blinked his eyes, which were red and stinging from all the sweat that had poured from his brow, to clear them. But he didn't stop, even as his movements slowed with each rep. He even added five extra burpees once he counted to sixty, just to be safe and make up for any he might have missed.

When he stood back on his feet after the last one, he stumbled, almost tripping over his legs as he swayed. The blood rushed to his head too fast. He needed water. But he couldn't simply ask for it. What if Sensei made him do seventy next time?

"Fifty jumping-jacks."

_Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty seven…._

Hawk stopped only once for a few seconds when his chest erupted with another coughing fit, but he willed his body to push past it before Sensei Kreese could punish him for it. Sensei could see for himself how strong he was, how he kept going. Any of the others in class would have given up by now. They would have crumbled into sniveling heaps, crying for it all to stop.

_Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one…._

Eli would have said _anything_ to make it stop at that moment. He would have gotten to his knees and begged for mercy. But this was Cobra Kai. This was Sensei Kreese. There was no mercy. Nor should there be, Hawk reminded himself. Mercy was for losers. And he was no loser. Sensei Kreese could see that by now, right? He _wasn't_ a loser.

Sensei Kreese arched an eyebrow when Hawk finished. "Fifty burpees."

Hawk's head was swimming. He didn't comprehend the instructions. How many of these exercises had he done in total? Four hundred? Five hundred? A thousand? Why did he taste acid in the back of his throat? Why were his clothes drenched? Why was the room spinning?

Fifty burpees. Right. Fifty more. "Yes, Sensei," he muttered.

_One, two, three…._

As soon as he climbed back up after his fourth count, Hawk collapsed back to the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Nausea swept up from his stomach, and he rolled over on his side suddenly as bile spewed out of his mouth with heave after violent heave, all over the mats.

He curled into himself, but the stench of the sickness made him throw up even more. The perspiration covering his body was now chill, making him cold where he'd been burning hot before. He didn't know if the wetness dripping from his eyes was from the sweat or from tears. He hoped, he prayed, it wasn't the latter. Crying would've meant he'd lost again. Anything but that.

His abdomen turned one more time until there was nothing left to give. The only thing that kept him from falling over into the mess he'd made was someone grabbing his shoulders from behind and pulling him up into a sitting position. Then he felt a cup being pressed into his hand and guided to his mouth.

At the first taste of water, Hawk chugged it down greedily and without reserve, desperate for his thirst to be quenched. He drank like he'd gone days without it.

"Not too fast now," he heard Sensei Kreese say from beside him. And it only clicked for Hawk at that moment that it was Sensei who'd helped him up and given him the water. And after about five minutes, he recovered enough of his faculties for it to sink in that he'd succumbed to weakness and failed. Even Stingray had managed to not throw up from an intensive workout. What excuse did he possibly have?

A sharp pain pierced him on the inside at realizing his failure, and it somehow felt even worse than throwing up had. The shame that washed over him was colder than the sweat that covered every inch of his shivering skin. He struggled to keep his hands from shaking, and took another drink from the cup to cover it up. He tried to let the water soothing the acidic burn down in his throat cool his nerves down, too.

Then, he wondered, why had Sensei….

He looked up at the old man just as he grabbed his arm and helped pull him to his feet. Hawk thought he did a good job keeping his knees from buckling out from under him.

"There you go, you're alright," assessed Sensei Kreese with a methodical casualness, hooking his thumbs back through the belt around his waist.

Hawk was so confused. He'd expected a stern reprimand, to be told he was a complete loser in every way, that he couldn't even take his punishment without fucking it up. But he was too utterly exhausted to try and figure out what was wrong with this scenario, why Sensei Kreese didn't look disappointed in him. All he could do was mumble in lingering disorientation, "Sensei?"

"I know you could have kept going," said Sensei Kreese, giving him that hard look of his, the one that saw right through him. Of course he knew that. And he was right. Hawk would have kept going if his body had not betrayed him. "And I know you will never let me down again, will you?"

"No, Sensei," Hawk answered without a second's pause. He would do anything to make sure he didn't have to go through this hell again. _Anything_.

A grim smile spread over Sensei Kreese's face. "That's good." Raising his eyebrows, his eyes swept over the mess covering the mats, like it was a minor nuisance to him. "Take another few minutes for break, get yourself some more water," he told Hawk. "I'll get you the mop and bucket to clean this up."


End file.
